Insights on the Endurance, Technical and Adventure Lifestyle.

If you made it to this review, you’re somehow curious. And that is the premise that Sam Taylor-Johnson’s Fifty Shades of Grey works on: curiosity.

If you want me to tell you that Fifty Shades of Grey was a bad movie, then leave now.

Fifty Shades of Grey is every guilty dessert you’ve ever had, and crave again. A sticky, corny, breathless mix of horny inference and naughty voyeurism combined with a visual and aural experience that is incredibly satisfying for those open to admit it. For everyone else, Disney is releasing a new version of Cinderella on March 13.

But Fifty Shades hits all the grown-up hot buttons of Cinderella, Titanic, The Beach, Dracula and every other cliché’ romantic theme, and it spins these clichés freshly enough for two very rapt hours. On a cold winter’s night, that is pretty damn hot.

Firstly, Fifty Shades of Gray is a visual treat. With beautiful, escapist sets, wardrobes and music this is the 120+ minute escape from reality we buy a movie a ticket for. Every detail is at least well done, some so well done they are breathless. And while the bondage and dominance themes aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, everyone but the most severely repressed will find naughty, voyeuristic fun in this corny fantasy. Even Anastasia’s Steele’s lilting and gentle voice is a method of seduction that punctuates the movie. The scene where Christian straps Anastasia into the helicopter is absolutely incendiary.

Casting is also superb, with Dakota Johnson interpreting Anastasia with incredible accuracy and function and Jamie Dornan as a perfect mix of hot, demented, tormented and tender as Christian Grey.

This is a movie of gems, from a beautiful scene where Christian Grey takes Anastasia for a ride in a glider to a lilting dance scene where wardrobe, music (Frank Sinatra, of course), set and characters make movie history. All of these scenes are stolen clichés, and all of them are done brilliantly. Interestingly enough, the bondage sex scenes really don’t push limits or get very racy, they just have a breathy inference that does the trick.

The mastery in this film includes a use of silence that is captivating, using it as an awkward negative space that anyone who has ever suffered obsession has felt.

A packed theater for a 10 PM showing contained only about 10 men- in the entire movie theater. The assembled hen party alternately giggled during the sex scenes and was in rapt silence during the heavy parts when the audience hung on the dialogue in virtual bondage- with no safe word. It’s pretty safe to assume that PTA meetings and knitting circles were poorly attended the night Fifty Shades opened.

There is one disturbing sequence in the movie, when boundaries are bent just a little too far, and the movie isn’t fun there. But even this heavy moment can be forgiven- only in artistic context- as an appliance of punctuation in the story line.

For those who are wary of the movie and fear it crosses lines that advocate abuse, I can respect and identify with that perspective. The movie is about power trips and control, and those are things easily demented. But this movie is also about tender themes of communication and honesty, and to lose those against the sultry and pornographic backdrop is to not get everything you paid for in the story. That said, for victims of abuse, this is not the right movie and should be avoided. The story itself does not endorse non-consensual abuse, and makes repeated and clear statements to that effect. And recall that there are more than a few epic and noteworthy romances that challenge boundaries and cross lines, from Gone With The Wind to Casablanca.

The movie does exploit gender role stereotypes, and there are victims on both sides; the innocent simple girl and the tormented powerful man. If you are offended by stereotypes then take equal offense at each. Both are exploited here. That is a function of great fiction. Remember- this is fiction. The fact is people control or attempt to control each other in many ways in relationships; this story expands on those themes. Its over-emphasized delivery of these themes is what gives it such unusual candor, and make it such a spectacle.

The inspiration of this story includes themes from the life of Howard Hughes and borrows snippets from little known cult classics like the much more disturbing Boxing Helena from 1993. This is simply an updated compendium of all these themes. It’s been a while since we had something like this, so audiences are ripe for Fifty Shades.

What is so well done about Fifty Shades of Grey is its wide band of erotic frequencies. The hottest scenes have neither nudity or sex, although there is plenty of that too, and it is pretty darn good. Perhaps some of the most powerful scenes include a brand of honesty and openness almost never seen in real life relationships, and seeing that is incredibly hot. The “contract negotiation” scene is a fantasy I wager everyone has wished for. There is also the dramatic back-and-forth of control, and the concession that having it is usually an illusion, and always ephemeral. In that regard, Fifty Shades of Grey is a documentary.

Ultimately you are either a fan of this romantic theme or you aren’t. For fence sitters I wager Fifty Shades of Grey will win some people over to the dark side and sell a lot of bondage gear. If it’s not your thing, avoid it. But if you are curious, then submit to the cliché and caricature of Fifty Shades of Grey and get ready to be strapped down for two hours with a racing heart on a wild, romantic and naughty ride.

I stepped out the door on the way to work two weeks ago. It had snowed. Nothing remarkable about that. It’s Michigan, it’s January.

What was remarkable is that my sidewalks, walkway and driveway were cleared of snow. I did not do it, it was done for me.

I live in Dearborn Heights, Michigan. Three blocks north of me is Dearborn. Dearborn Heights is considered less affluent than Dearborn. It’s like “Dearborn on a budget”. We have lower home values- by a lot. There is less government, fewer services, fewer building codes, fewer police and emergency services. A girl I dated a long time ago is on city council and has run for Mayor a few times. She hasn’t won yet, but I’d vote for her. She’s a smart politician and good administrator.

I can look three blocks north into Dearborn from my house in Dearborn Heights. I live in Dearborn Heights now because it is cheaper. A three-bedroom house on a big lot in Dearborn Heights is about $800 a month. Same house in Dearborn; maybe $1200, on a smaller lot.

Part of the reason Dearborn is more expensive is city services and government.

And that brings us back to the snow.

Like I said, my snow was cleared completely. Quite nicely too. Since I had allowed an extra 15 minutes to shovel my own snow I now had 15 extra minutes of discretionary time before I left for work.

Discretionary time: think about that. It is our most precious non-renewable resource.

So I had a choice about what to do with this valuable 15 minutes.

I was in the Army. And the National Guard. A key thing we learned was to be a team player, act without direction congruent with a key set of values. Work together selflessly. Strive to do more than is expected and never settle.

So I picked up my snow shovel and shoveled the snow of the neighbor one house down from me. Mine was done. His was not.

Meanwhile, three blocks north in Dearborn the city plows had been out (higher taxes there, more expensive housing) but the sidewalks were still snow covered. It takes a while for the sidewalk plows to come after the streets have been cleared. The city can only afford so many sidewalk plows and people to drive them, and sometimes they have damaged people’s private walkways to their house creating lawsuits to get the city to repair them. So it takes extra time for the sidewalks to get cleared in Dearborn. It’s also expensive. The sidewalk sweepers have to be bid on and bought, someone is paid to administer that project, and they must have a college degree in a related field since they are controlling a lot of public money. Then they have to hire people to drive the plows, and the process of hiring those people must be administered fairly and without discrimination or nepotism, so there needs to be some oversight there as well. The sidewalk sweepers also need gas and maintenance and storage during the summer, and that costs money too.

In Dearborn Heights, we just use snow shovels. A guy down the street has a snowblower, so he clears the sidewalks and walkways of his house and the neighbor on each side. Then the guy three doors down, also with a snowblower, does the same. I shovel the rest to the corner. I don’t have a snowblower.

Another guy, one block over, owns a snow removal service. He runs his plow up and down the street. Then we’re done.

Three blocks north in Dearborn, the sidewalk sweeper still hasn’t come.

I view Facebook as a place to socialize, connect, share similarities and expand understanding. Not a place to draw lines or open wounds.

It’s rare for me to “unfriend” someone, but last week I did that and it made me sad.

I was sad because I sense that I actually like the person, even though there are some things I disagree with them about. That is fine.

But at which point a person begins to use a public and social platform to spread more than just their beliefs- to spread hurt and ridicule and even hate, then I must exclude them from the stream of consciousness that is my Facebook feed.

Here’s why:

Social media isn’t reality. We portray ourselves the way we want other people to see (and not see) us. We paint a picture, based more or less, on some version of who we really are. That is good because it is, well, “social” and it gives us a very controllable 600 X 800 persona. It is bad because what we envision in the virtual does have a tendency to manifest itself in reality.

I subscribe to a few axioms of life; one of them is that “We each create our own reality”. The reality I wish to create is one of friendship, unity, understanding, tolerance and kindness. I am not about drawing lines or about cruelty or ridicule.

You may disagree with me if you’d like, and I may disagree with you, but we can still find common interests on social media. And I welcome your ideas.

I am interested in making new connections, especially with people in places I either have never been or do not understand. In the words of great author Steven Covey I try, as best I can, to “seek first to understand, then to be understood”.

Over 4,000 people tolerate my incessant and tedious litany of Facebook posts about my cats, strange animals real and imagined, airplanes, triathlons, bicycles, scantily clad girls and videos of strange happenings. Every once in a while a few people get fed up with it and “unfriend” me, and every few days I pick up a few new “friends”, almost always people I have never have never met, nor will I ever meet.

A big part of my involvement in Facebook is commercial- to promote the work I do for a few different outlets in three different and unrelated industries. People get understandably bored with that too. Fair enough. There’s an “unfriend” button for that.

But the quickest and really the only way to get “unfriend-ed” by me is for someone to threaten violence, or advocate ridicule or insult in what should be a peaceful space. This is a gray area, and I support some institutions that do violence; the military is an example. But I am judicious (at least I think so) in my advocacy of these causes and interests, and I acknowledge you may have no interest in them. I respect that. You may even take exception to them. I accept that.

There are vast areas of gray in social media use; what is obscene or profane to some of my friends is acceptable, desirable even, to others. There is a point where gray becomes black and that isn’t always the same all the time, with every topic and every person, but I know when I see it. And I won’t let it in my Facebook feed.

If you were waiting for the release of Clint Eastwood’s American Sniper you have probably seen it by now. If you haven’t, and have no interest in movies of this genre, then you need to see it.

American Sniper is three distinct things: Firstly and most profoundly, it is an unflinching commentary on the American experience in the Global War On Terror. Secondly, it is a brilliantly crafted film in every way that uses contrast and plot to slam home a message of ongoing relevance. And lastly, it is a call to action to adapt our doctrine in the never-ending conflict with barbarism and cruelty.

Modern American Heroes are Tragic Figures.

American culture has a habit of moderating the horrors of war by deifying the sacrifice of those lost to it. We build heroes. And then we aspire to be heroes. This has a dreadful self-perpetuating tendency to use war as our primary tool in the darkest corners of international conflict. American Sniper challenges that national notion.

Our heroes are often tragic figures, wracked with conflict and fear, who meet sad and untimely endings. The main figure in American Sniper, Naval Special Warfare Operator Chris Kyle, is just such a character. His valor, patriotism and loyalty were unswerving. This film celebrates that. But he mounted a quest to slay an un-slayable dragon, and was tragically consumed by it. This film mourns that.

This is a notice to American culture in a new age: maintain our current doctrine and continue to produce tragic heroes like Chris Kyle, or advance our thinking in conflict resolution and find a less costly method that produces more tangible results.

Perhaps the greatest testimony to the tragic theme of American Sniper is that U.S. troops still deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan will see this movie there instead of being at home. And the region is still locked in conflict.

Flawless and Authentic Filmmaking.

American Sniper is marble-hard filmmaking perfection. Director Clint Eastwood employs every trick of drama, suspense, tragedy and action with expertise. Casting is also superb down to the minor characters. There is not a single weak spot or feature to American Sniper. The film is so effective and hard-hitting that when it ends the theatre is left in stunned and exhausted silence. If you calibrate this film against the standards of Saving Private Ryan, Blackhawk Down or any other conflict film it exceeds them all. This is the new standard in conflict commentary film.

A National Call to Action in an Unresolved War.

Finally, American Sniper holds a vivid mirror up to our military doctrine in the ongoing Global War on Terror. The inescapable verdict is that, while we have succeeded in thwarting any major terrorist actions on U.S. soil, we have fallen short of providing functional reform and security to much of the region where the GWOT is waged. The significance of both of these points is more relevant now than ever, after two weeks of new terror attacks in France and months of escalated terrorist activity by ISIL in Syria, Iraq and Afghanistan. We’ve kept the (Middle Eastern) terrorists off U.S. soil since 9/11, but we are far from anything resembling a “victory”.

American Sniper is made with sensitivity and care, expertise and authenticity. It is also a relevant movie for the times. Eastwood’s film rises to the very top of the GWOT film genre’ and challenges all of our thinking about the past and the direction of our future role in this seemingly never-ending conflict.

It’s Saturday morning, September 15, 2012. Washington Township, Michigan. An idyllic late summer day, 73 degrees. Wind out of the NNW at a calm 4 M.P.H. A perfect training day for the Ironman World Championship Triathlon in Kona, Hawaii a few weeks away in October.

Local heartthrob triathlete Amy Gluck is out training for the 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike and 26.2- mile run that is the most famous triathlon in the world.

Gluck is putting the final touches on her preparation for Kona. Blonde and beautiful, the (then) 40-year old Amy Gluck could grace the cover of any fitness or fashion magazine. In person she is warm and unassuming about her athletic accomplishments. By day she works as a clinical nutrition manager. The rest of the time she inspires the local triathlon community with her drive and humble athleticism while she prepares for another great Ironman.

Amy Gluck at the finish line and on the podium at the Ford Ironman World Championships in Kona, Hawaii before her accident.

Amy is up early, as usual, inflating her bike tires and texting training partners. She meets another athlete for their long ride inside one of the local Metroparks where the smooth, tree-shaded winding roads are perfect for cycling. Toward the end of her ride she leaves the park and rides out onto local roads.

Where she is hit broadside by a gravel-hauling semi truck.

Gluck’s bones are crushed, snapped and mangled. Bone fragments, now lethal internal shrapnel, ricochet inside her body. Even though she is wearing a bicycle helmet her brain accelerates inside her skull to smash into the bone, beginning deadly inflammation almost immediately. Her left eye is internally detached. Connective tissues are creased beyond any normal range of motion. But mostly, it is the fatal force of the impact. Based on the reports of the accident the combined forward speed of Gluck’s bicycle and the speed of the semi-truck are equivalent to riding into a concrete wall at about 45 M.P.H. A BBC report on bicycle helmets states that, “If you crash at 15 miles per hour in a normal helmet, your head will be subjected to around 220G [G-force].” But Wikipedia says that, “Very short duration shocks of 100 g have been survivable in racing car crashes.” Gluck’s impact may have occurred at nearly two times those forces.

The next hours are a blur of emergency medical trauma decisions; any one of which made differently- even slightly- will kill Gluck if she manages to live to the next one. Which, in her condition, is unlikely. She is eventually medevaced by helicopter to a more advanced trauma unit, but only after a large section of skull is removed to reduce brain damage from swelling. The skull section becomes contaminated and cannot be replaced inside her head if she lives. Nothing about her condition is hopeful, and the situation is deteriorating. She slips into a deep coma, hovering barely outside the margins of death.

It is a nightmare scenario, every cyclist’s worst fear. The injuries from the shattering impact with the grille of the giant semi-truck are so extensive no one person I spoke to could list them all.

News of Gluck’s accident travels fast in the tight-knit Michigan triathlon community. It’s a community of athletes across all skill levels from Ironman finishers to athletes in their first year of triathlons. And it is a community used to tragedy and loss. There was the death of popular local Ironman age grouper Jon Logan to cancer. A life-threatening accident for triathlete Mike Orris. The sudden death of athlete Sean Tyrrell, the death of Gary Plank, the earlier death of local cycling coach and rider Michael R. Rabe to a drunk driver. Even local running entrepreneur Randy Step suffered congestive heart failure and had heart surgery then came back to be a signpost for not just surviving, but truly living. But Gluck’s accident resonates somehow deeper. In a tragic epilogue another cyclist, 38-yeart old Emily Sands of Dryden, Michigan, is hit and killed seven months after Gluck’s accident on the same roads.

Triathletes- the people who do Ironmans- are a funny breed. They consider themselves somehow exempt from mortality. They are fitter, leaner, healthier. Aside from bouts with shins splints, swimmer’s elbow and road rash from minor bike falls most triathletes believe they are living a healthy lifestyle that contributes to their quality of life and longevity. Amy Gluck’s lethal accident seemed like a morbid alarm clock that woke up the community to their own mortality.

Two things could have happened in the wake of Amy Gluck’s accident, and they would likely happen in the hours while she hovered on the thinnest of lines between life and death. The athlete community could look at Gluck’s horrifying accident and withdraw, becoming individuals living in fear and retreating to a sedentary lifestyle that seems safer. Or, they could rally together and live, even when they were unsure if Gluck would live, and make an unswerving commitment to support Amy Gluck and each other- and not give in to the fear of mortality.

The community chose to rally together and live.

The WXYZ television coverage of Amy Gluck’s prayer vigil on September 21, 2012.

On September 21, 2012, six days after Gluck’s crushing accident and at the low point of her descent into a coma, while she hovers between life and death, athletes who know Amy have a prayer vigil at Henry Ford Hospital. Local ABC News affiliate WXYZ reports the story.

It is an unusual video report to watch. Awkward almost. But one senses there is a transition that takes place right before your eyes- in that video. It is the beginning of the collective decision of the community to band together, to rise above, to somehow turn this tragedy into a rallying point. And to pull Amy Gluck back from the brink.

Against all odds, Gluck does not die. She is, however, far from living. Especially by her standards.

Weeks pass. Amy’s sister Kendi Gluck, a physician herself, told the ABC News affiliate, “It’s like a nightmare and I just want to wake up from it.” Friends take turns at Amy’s bedside. Uncertainty about Amy’s survival remains but the tight bonds within the athlete community only strengthen. These are people used to tough going in the late hours of an Ironman, when it seems like the race will never end and the finish will never come. There is a saying among Ironman triathletes, “If you don’t like how you feel, wait a few minutes, it will change.” The community applies that same mental resolve to endure Amy’s tedious grip on life. It is a community uniquely prepared to handle the wild swing of ups and downs. Outsiders would ask, “What will happen to Amy?” the answer was oddly unanimous. “Don’t count Amy Gluck out.” And they didn’t.

The weeks turn into months. One day- different people suggest different dates, Amy Gluck wakes up. And a new race starts. A race harder than any Ironman Gluck had competed in, and a race with an undefined finish line. Now that Gluck has survived the accident, no one knows where her recovery will take her. But Amy Gluck is back in the race, and her multiple Ironmans were merely a warm-up for the race to get back to who she was before her accident.

Gluck before the start of the Lifetime Fitness Indoor Triathlon.

There are surgeries. Many, many surgeries. Most sound more like carpentry than medicine. There is an endless procession of setbacks and low points. At times Gluck seems out of touch with reality, talking about getting ready for an upcoming race that doesn’t exist as though the accident never happened. But the nature of brain injuries is that, as they heal the person who suffered them gradually reintegrates into collective reality. Gluck has begun that long mental process along with the grating and painful physical recovery, a recovery that may never end.

On May 14, 2014 I visited Amy at the recovery facility she lived in at the time. It was a comfortable, nicely appointed single story community building that felt like an apartment. I had no idea what I was walking into. Would she be… somehow not in touch with reality? How do you ask a person who has been through a terrible accident and barely lived if they are “OK” now? Would she know?

Amy answered the door and gave me a hug. Unusual since, quite frankly, I never knew her well prior to learning about her accident. I only knew of her. She was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants and big, floppy socks. Her hair was a messy heap of blonde.

There was something oddly…naked about her eyes. Like she had seen something very bad. They were, however, fully open, as if to suggest an incredible awareness to the unlikely circumstances of her survival. And, to take in all the challenges and possibilities that lie before her.

It was a year and six months since Gluck’s accident.

“Do you remember the accident?”

“I don’t even remember how I ended up where I was riding. I don’t remember anything about the accident. Maybe that’s better.” She speaks quietly between gentle pauses. Each comment from her, whether she is recounting her injuries, recovery or talking about her future, is articulate and well conceived. She is all there. Nothing is missing.

I ask her about being in the hospital and when she woke up.

“I don’t really remember when I woke up. It seemed like a long time. I was kind of in and out.” She says. She seems to diminish the brutality of her ordeal. She says waking from a coma was not like they show it on TV, it does not happen suddenly and all at once.

It occurs to me that blocking out much of what she has been through is not only a physical result of her injuries, but an emotional necessity. Amy had a huge section of her life torn out. She’ll never get it back.

Over the next few months I spoke to many people about Amy Gluck’s accident and miraculous survival, and prospects for more than survival.

Amy Christena, a longtime friend of Amy Gluck told me, “She’s challenging herself every day. To get back to the girl she was. She is something more than a survivor. She never lost her drive. That is why, inside at least, she is still the same person.” Christena is also an experienced triathlete who shared in many of Amy Gluck’s races and successes prior to the accident. “I honestly thought she was going to die. I’m really amazed she lived.” Amy Christena was one of the people who visited and supported Amy Gluck from day one since the accident, and she participated in the dreadful rollercoaster of her difficult and ongoing recovery ordeal.

During one visit Amy Christena asked Gluck how she was doing. Gluck told her she was getting ready for [Ironman] Louisville. “She was very confused. She took all the conversations in the room and merged them into one. I was devastated”. But Amy Christena never counted out the possibility of Gluck somehow getting better.

Through endless suffering and staggering setbacks Amy Gluck did continue to improve. Her ambition and drive to get back outstripped the pace of her physical recovery sometimes, and that was frustrating. Gluck held exactly the same high standards for her recovery as she did for an Ironman performance in Kona. Just recovering was not enough. Gluck wanted back in the race.

On Sunday, January 4, 2015, 2 years, 3 months and 21 days after her accident, Amy Gluck did a triathlon. She participated in the Lifetime Fitness Indoor Triathlon in Commerce Township, Michigan. The race is part of a national series of indoor triathlons sponsored by Lifetime Fitness. And while a short indoor triathlon at a health club is an incredible measure from competing in the Ironman World Championships, it is also a long way from lying in a coma trapped between life and death.

Michael Wilker, General Manager of Lifetime Fitness in Commerce said, “It’s incredible, one of the greatest stories we’ve ever heard, and we’re excited Lifetime could be a small part of it.”

Many of the same people who were seen in the WXYZ news story back in 2012 were at Lifetime Fitness for the event- over two years later “Amy’s Army” was stronger than ever.

College friend Colleen Churchill, a bubbly, adorable physical education teacher chauffeured Gluck to the event from Livonia, Michigan. Churchill’s devotion to Amy’s comeback has been strong. She is one of many foot soldiers of Amy’s Army who never gave up on Gluck’s long run at a comeback. During the event Churchill shared a swim lane with Gluck and rode an indoor bike next to her for the bike leg then ran on the treadmill next to her to the virtual finish line.

Along with many other friends of Amy Gluck, Colleen Churchill was there when Amy was in the hospital hanging onto life and then over two years later as she celebrates her miraculous survival.

Amy Gluck still needs help, and plenty of it. While her story has an inspirational ring to it, her recovery is very far from complete. She can’t drive, she does not live independently, her balance issues from the accident mean she may not be able to ride a bicycle outdoors and even if she could, the trauma to her family and friends from the accident and ordeal of wondering if Gluck would even survive are unbearable. The depth of Amy’s loss is immeasurable, from Ironman competitor to being dependent on friends and family for basic transportation and assistance with day-to-day life. Her loss, despite her survival, is staggering. The trip from Ironman podium to life support is about the widest swing of life experience anyone can imagine. While Amy Gluck is soft spoken about her ordeal, everyone else stands in awe of what she has lost, and her brave, never-ending struggle to try to get some version of it back, even if it is only an indoor triathlon her friends have to drive her to.

When I asked Colleen Churchill what it was like to share the experience with Amy she told me, “Amy’s struggle reminds me not to take anything for granted, to live your life out loud. Amy’s accident changed my life forever too.”

Talk to anyone about Amy Gluck’s story. They all say the same things. “She is incredible.” “She is stronger than I would be.” “She is an inspiration.” “She makes me value what I have even more.” “She has shown us that participating in the sport is a gift and we can lose it at any time.” “When I reach a tough spot in a race I think of her and it makes it easier.” Every athlete I talked to about Amy is inspired by her.

Any other group connected by a common interest would have been shattered by Amy’s tragedy. People would have drifted away in fear, taken up golf or tennis. Something safer. But the opposite happened with Amy Gluck’s friends and the Michigan multisport community. They rallied to Amy’s support. And in doing so, athlete bonds were strengthened. New athletes were inspired and mentored. And athletes looked to Amy’s survival as an inspiration. It is as if the entire community looked to Gluck’s incredible example of trying to go beyond survival and asked themselves, “What Would Amy Do?” The answer is clear; Amy Gluck does more than survive. Amy Gluck gets back in the race.

Top: The semi-automatic sporting rifle possessed by Adam Lanza at the Sandy Hook Shooting. Bottom: An automatic M4 assault rifle used by the U.S. military and heavily regulated for public sale.

Nine families who lost children in the 2012 shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School have filed a lawsuit against Bushmaster Firearms, the company that manufactured one of the weapons in possession of shooter Adam Lanza.

It is likely the lawsuits will fail to increase restrictions on the distribution and ownership laws of firearms in the U.S. Instead, the suit will continue to divert attention away from the central threat of firearms crime; conduct with a firearm, not the technical specifications of the firearm itself.

The primary reason the suit will fail to achieve meaningful reform of firearms legislation is a common misunderstanding of firearms nomenclature: The difference between an automatic assault rifle and a semi-automatic sporting rifle.

An automatic assault rifle has a mode of operation that enables the user to fire multiple shots with a single depression of the trigger: Pull the trigger back one time and hold it, bullets continue to fire. This is an “automatic weapon”. The sales and distribution of these weapons is restricted in most states to persons holding a specific permit that requires more documentation than other weapons.

A semi-automatic sporting rifle has a mode of operation that fires one bullet for one pull of the trigger: Each time the user fires a bullet they must pull the trigger. The sales and distribution of semi-automatic weapons is less restricted than automatic weapons.

This distinction should be straightforward. What has created confusion is the appearance of semi-automatic sporting rifles is sometimes nearly identical to fully automatic assault weapons.

We have already seen confusion between “semi-automatic” (one trigger pull, one shot) and “fully automatic” (one trigger pull, many shots) among lawmakers. There has been more than one press conference when a lawmaker has brandished a semi-automatic sporting rifle and characterized it as capable of firing “hundreds of bullets” inferring that the semi-automatic rifle they are displaying has fully-automatic capability. It doesn’t. And therein lies the reason why attempts to improve firearms legislation have failed.

Confusion may be understandable, although not excusable. Especially among legislators.

Semi-automatic sporting rifles like the ones manufactured by Bushmaster look like fully automatic weapons. The irony is they actually store less ammunition internally than more benign looking semi-automatic hunting rifles. Some models of hunting rifles, including semi-automatic and even bolt-action hunting rifles with a less military appearance house their bullets in an internal magazine that is a part of the rifle itself. The Bushmaster semi-automatic sporting rifle (remember, it wasn’t an automatic “assault rifle”) possessed by Adam Lanza at Sandy Hook holds its ammunition in a separate external “magazine” or metal box that is attached to the rifle when loaded. The magazines for these rifles have assorted capacities that can vary with design. In California, the number of bullets these magazines can hold is restricted to a maximum of 10 bullets. The idea is that, a person is forced to reload their rifle after firing a maximum of 11 bullets (remember, the rifle can chamber or contain 1 bullet ready to fire and the 10 in the magazine a maximum of 11, 10+1=11). Presumably this is intended to limit the damage they can do.

While many firearms owners and manufacturers argue against firearms legislation reform, their adherence to outdated legislation has continued to polarize their position. Proactive reform of legislation with advocacy from the firearms ownership and manufacturing lobby is a more constructive approach.

If the contention of the complaint against Bushmaster is that the rifle Lanza used at Sandy Hook was a combat weapon with automatic capability, then the complaint does not have merit. If the contention is that the Bushmaster rifle used by Lanza is styled after a fully automatic assault weapon, that argument is factually correct. However, it is a difficult argument to prove the styling and appearance of the weapon somehow augment its lethality compared to other semi-automatic sporting weapons.

The problem with the Sandy Hook lawsuits is they do not focus on a central problem in mass shootings; management of potentially violent persons who may have a history of behavior that could lead to violence. This suit also fails to address another critical aspect of all gun violence; the responsibility of the owner of the firearm (any firearm) to secure it from use by other parties. This includes the distribution of firearms through negligence by failing to adequately secure them from theft. Interestingly, in the U.S. Army, failure to secure a weapon- any weapon- from theft or loss is one of the most serious offences, comparable to a felony in civilian terms and sometimes cause for less than honorable discharge, tantamount to a felony conviction.

Firearms owners argue their rights under legislation drafted well before modern firearms were engineered. The capabilities of firearms have changed significantly since the basis of our current federal firearms laws were drafted. It makes sense that legislation governing the ownership of firearms evolves as the firearms technology does. In nearly every other area of law, legislation has evolved with technology and society, often trailing it, but eventually adapting. Firearms law in the U.S. has somehow been largely excused from this evolution. That is remiss.

Furthermore, legislating firearms specifications is an ineffective approach to moderating firearms crime. Instead, improving legislation of firearms ownership liability is a more effective approach. Legislation that would compel firearms owners to secure their weapons or face stiff felony charges, even through their unintentional distribution through theft, need to be imposing enough so that every firearm owner understands the gravity and social responsibility associated with owning a firearm.

The beautiful new Boeing 787-8 arriving at Detroit Metro for the first time ever on December 1, 2014 as Royal Jordanian flight 267.

The first ever Boeing 787 Dreamliner to land at Detroit Metropolitan Airport arrived this morning, December 1, 2014, Monday. Catching a rare first arrival is a big trophy for aircraft spotters.

A month before the arrival of the aircraft, a beautiful, brand new Royal Jordanian Airlines Boeing 787-8 Dreamliner, the Facebook page Detroit Metro Airport Spotting posted an announcement of the first-ever arrival and invited people who “Like” their page to the event. Aircraft spotting is a worldwide hobby among aircraft enthusiasts and bagging a first-ever flight is a rare trophy.

Trying to be in the right place at the right time to catch an arriving flight is a little tricky, but much easier now with the help of flight tracking websites like FlightAware.com and networks of people with like interests on social media.

The Dreamliner’s route from Amman, Jordan over the Atlantic to Montreal, Quebec, Canada before flying here to Detroit.

The Dreamliner arrival originated in Amman, Jordan almost two days earlier and flew in a northern arc across the Atlantic, descending down over northern Canada and into Toronto. It originated as Royal Jordanian Flight 267 out of Amman, continuing from Toronto to Detroit with the same flight number.

The Boeing 787 Dreamliner is a milestone in aviation because of its incredible fuel efficiency, over 20% more fuel efficient than similarly sized passenger aircraft. The 787 competes directly with the mostly French-built Airbus A350, and the A350 is said to be even more fuel efficient. From the start the Dreamliner was meant to be revolutionary. Most of the aircraft’s wings are made of carbon fiber, not aluminum. This makes them lighter and stronger, contributing to fuel efficiency. It also gives the Dreamliner its unique upward bowing of the wings in flight, like a giant, gliding bird.

The carbon fiber wings of the Boeing 787 Dreamliner form a graceful curve in flight. Here is the Royal Jordanian flight on final into Detroit on its first-ever arrival here.

The windows on the Dreamliner use a unique passenger controlled auto-tint feature as opposed to conventional pull-down blinds. Early Dreamliner prototypes had unusual, triangular shaped windows, reminiscent of the DeHavilland Comet. The production versions settled on a squarish, advanced passenger window that is about 30 percent larger than other aircraft in its class. Probably better that Boeing went to the more conventional square windows since the triangular windows that originated with the Comet airliner in 1949 were blamed for several crashes and later changed.

The Dreamliner’s advanced cockpit features full glass display integration, conventional wheel-style flight control column, Heads Up Displays in front of the windscreen unique communications system interfaces.

To get photos of the Dreamliner’s arrival I went to the south end of Metro Airport. After driving around the airport and watching flight arrival and departure patterns it was easy to predict which runway the aircraft would likely be arriving on. Early traffic of “heavies”, Bowing 747’s, were arriving on the western runway at Metro, runway 4L as approached from the south. The Dreamliner arrived on runway 3L. Usually the very large aircraft like 747’s are routed onto their own runway while the smaller aircraft use a different runway on busy arrival days.

A big Delta Boeing 747 arrives at Metro before the Dreamliner. This aircraft used the farthest west runway, runway 4L as approached from the south.

Security around all airports has to be tight. One Tom Clancy novel featured an attack on an airliner using a shoulder-fired surface to air missile at Tucson International airport. In Clancy’s story, the weapon was smuggled across the Mexican border by Middle Eastern terrorists. When I showed up to the south end of Metro Airport wearing a backpack and walking toward the airport fence, three security vehicles and one Wayne County Sheriff converged to stop me. After a quick and courteous ID check by these excellent security officers they let me wait a few moments for the aircraft’s arrival while they stayed with me.

A. Where I was located to shoot photos between the approaches for runways 4L and 4R. B. The arrival path of the Dreamliner.

The ideal location to shoot photos of the Dreamliner would have been with the sun behind me. It was an overcast day so the lighting would be marginal. As luck had it, the aircraft was between the sun and me, backlit. Combined with the overcast skies conditions for photography were poor. But plane spotting is a lot like fishing. Sometimes you hit the jackpot, sometimes conditions are just OK. Today was a “just OK” day for photography.

The Dreamliner on final with flaps in the landing position and gear down. The crummy light conditions didn’t do the nice paint scheme any favors.

About three hours later the Dreamliner was set for departure and I went back hoping for better light. At the north end of Metro Airport I waited in the hotel/rental car parking lot across I-94 for it to take off. About an hour later than we had thought the aircraft was back in the air, this time with a little better lighting.